


Summer Winds (beckon the bright future)

by Serie11



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Bonding, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Flirting, Flying, Nonbinary Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Pre-Relationship, Second Chances, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 18:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: Fjorm always greets the new heroes happily, glad to have more strength on their side.Not this time.





	Summer Winds (beckon the bright future)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xenoglossy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenoglossy/gifts).

The summer air is warmer than what Fjorm is used to. Summers in Nifl are cooler than winters in Askr – the snow rarely melts away completely. She’s only seen one snowfall here, and while it was lovely, it faded away far too quickly for her liking. Fjorm shifts her weight slightly, moving her grasp on Leiptr. The lance is hardly necessary since they’re in the middle of the Askr camp, but its permanent chill reminds her of home. Why does Askr have to be so warm all the time? Fjorm misses the icy cold blasts of winter.

A sparkle sounds from inside the summoning hall, and Fjorm tils her head slightly to try and hear inside. Summoning sessions have grown rarer these days, but longer. When Fjorm first joined up with the Askrians, Kiran had held a summoning session several times a week. But they had always been short, and they had always come out with several new heroes. But now Kiran seems to have taken a new strategy to their summonings – Fjorm had helped them carry all of the precious, gleaming orbs up to the top of the hall before Kiran had asked everyone else to leave. They seem to prefer longer summoning sessions now, using up hoarded orbs. Fjorm should ask them why – maybe there’s some trick to it that she doesn’t understand. Kiran’s power is something that still awes her, this calling forth of heroes from numerous different worlds.

She stands on one side of the doors leading into the hall, Sharena on the other side. Sharena is always so eager to meet new heroes, and as soon as they appear she’ll pounce on them, asking if she can show them around camp, and inquiring as to what foods they prefer and where they’ve come from. It’s a worthy skill to have in a princess, and Fjorm wishes that she could echo it. She is here because she escorts Kiran everywhere they go inside camp; their summoner needs a body guard, even though Kiran still sometimes insists that her protection is unnecessary. Fjorm had told them that no matter what they said, she was still going to protect them, and she was still going to follow them around camp. Kiran had relented, but sometimes she thinks that they try to deliberately shake her. She can’t say that she blames them that much. She knows that she can sometimes get protective, but she hopes that Kiran knows that it all comes from a place of love.

And a place of strategy. Kiran is far too valuable to lose.

“I wonder who we’ll get to meet today,” Sharena says, bouncing a little on her toes. “Someone who will give me a ride on their pegasus? Or maybe someone who will have amazing armour! Or someone who can transform into a badger!”

“A badger?” Fjorm asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Badgers are quite formidable,” Sharena says seriously. “One time, I was doing some inventory on the camp supplies and found one eating our food! But when I tried to scare it away, it just hissed at me, and came running towards me! So I had to run away, obviously. Luckily half a dozen heroes were just outside, and their combined forces sent the badger running back to the forest.”

“I see,” Fjorm says wryly. “I’m glad they were able to protect you.”

Sharena lifts her chin up proudly. “They were all so happy to help! I’m glad that they want to help out around camp.”

Fjorm can’t help but smile. She opens her mouth to reply, but hears footsteps from within. Sharena perks up (Fjorm had thought she had already reached peak perk: she should learn to stop underestimating her). The door opens, and Fjorm leans in to look at who Kiran has brought back this time.

“Ylgr!” Fjorm cries, stepping forward. Her younger sister sees her and lights up, running forward to throw her arms around her. Ylgr’s arms are tight around her neck, and Fjorm presses her nose into her hair and smells… salt?

“You’re here!” Ylgr cheers.

“What are you wearing?” Fjorm asks, pulling back to look at her.

“A swimsuit,” Ylgr says, still grinning. “And look what I’ve got! A shovel that’s strong enough that I can hit people with it as well!”

“Of course you do,” Fjorm sighs. “Where could you have found such a thing…”

“Helbindi!” Ylgr says seriously. “He said that even at a beach, we should be able to protect ourselves. I suppose it’s a good idea he did, because we got attacked on the beach! At least, until we got called here. I’m glad to see you, sister.”

“Helbindi,” Fjorm murmurs, standing to her full height again and gripping Leiptr tightly. Helbindi was once a foe, even though Kiran has recruited him as well. Even so, there’s the chance that he might bring his other former allies with him.

Fjorm doesn’t know why she’s surprised when Laegjarn and Laevatein emerge from the summoning hall, both looking disgruntled to be standing there in their swimsuits. Fjorm supposes that she would have been upset to have been summoned in the middle of a holiday as well, but she can’t bring herself to think about that now. Instead she simply lays her hand on Ylgr’s shoulder, and suggests that she show her sister about the camp.

She meets Laegjarn’s eyes as she turns to leave. The Princess’s gaze is unfathomable, and Fjorm trusts Kiran’s safety to Sharena as she flees.

* * *

Fjorm can’t help but try to avoid Laegjarn and Laevatein. Ylgr is a joy to be with, as always, and she’s glad that her younger sister has joined her to fight alongside the Askrian forces, but she’s having a… harder time, believing it of the two princesses.

Fjorm knows that it’s possible to summon heroes from worlds parallel to their own – after all, she sees Helbindi around camp often enough, and it’s hard to ignore him. But this is the first time that she’s interacted with Laegjarn or Laevatein after the Laevatein from her world went back to wrest control of her country, after Laegjarn died under Fjorm’s hands. She wants to know – do Laevatein and Laegjarn come from before their confrontation, or in the world that they came from, did they survive it?

From what she gleans from Ylgr it just… simply did not happen. Surtr is still king, and there is a prosperous relationship between the kingdom of ice and the kingdom of fire. Fjorm knows that Laevatein and her brother are working towards that back home, that treaties and trade negotiations are ongoing. Hríd sends her messages at least once a month, and she takes care to know what’s going on in her homeland. After all, she’s next in line to the throne now. If something happens to Hríd… she needs to be ready.

It’s a busy time in camp, with Anna directing them towards their next goal. Fjorm’s time is taken up with guarding Kiran, setting up camp, and fighting in the skirmishes that they encounter along the way. Kiran is often in the thick of it, and so Fjorm is as well.

She doesn’t encounter either of the princesses of flame until she’s in the middle of a battle and Laegjarn appears by her side. Fjorm sees the archer before the already wounded princess does, and she sprints forward to guard Laegjarn, pulling up her ice mirror to protect them both. Leiptr sends its chill up her hands as she retaliates, and the archer falls.

“Princess Fjorm,” Laegjarn says, achingly formal.

“We are in the middle of a battle,” Fjorm says icily. “Please concentrate.”

Laegjarn doesn’t speak after that, and Fjorm takes advantage of her magic to take down strong defensive enemies that Leiptr has trouble against. It’s strange, seeing Laegjarn as a mage, but it’s not like Fjorm is only skilled with a lance. Before Hríd directed her to take up Leiptr, she was mostly proficient with a bow – though she dabbled in staves as well. In the thick snowdrifts, ranged weapons are often more efficient than ones that require a close distance to be used, and healing magic is always cherished.

Working together, it’s far easier to clear the enemies than if Fjorm had been alone. When they’re all gone, she wipes her brow and looks for the main force.

“We’ve been separated from the rest of the battalion,” Laegjarn states. “We should regroup.”

“Agreed.” Fjorm looks up to note the position of the sun. “We’ve ranged too far west. Come, it’s dangerous to be out here alone.”

“I can defend myself,” Laegjarn scoffs. Fjorm eyes the dirt and bruises that are already forming on her arms, and deliberately doesn’t mention them.

“I did not mean just for you,” Fjorm sighs. “It is easier if we go together, if that does not displease you.”

Laegjarn is silent for several seconds before she accepts Fjorm’s offer. Fjorm nods once, and starts in the direction of the main forces. Laegjarn is still perched on the back of her wyvern, and follows higher up in the air.

“I can see them,” Laegjarn calls. “If we cut over this next valley, we should catch up swiftly. There is space to ride on my wyvern, if you wish.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Fjorm says, and Largjarn lands. Fjorm studiously stares at the scales and the saddle and not Laegjarn, who for _some _reason is still wearing the swimsuit that she came here in. Fjorm settles in behind her in the saddle and is glad that Laegjarn won’t be able to see how red her cheeks are. It’s not _proper _but it’s only going to be for a short while. She can bear it until then. It’s just in her head – Laegjarn is already urging her wyvern up into the sky, and Fjorm clutches her as they dip in the air.

“Have you flown before?” Laegjarn asks, looking forward. Fjorm gives up on any sense of propriety and presses her nose against the line of Laegjarn’s shoulder blade. Her skin is warm, even with the cold wind blowing at them.

“No,” Fjorm admits. “The conditions in Nifl aren’t suitable for most flying mounts. It’s difficult to raise them there, when it’s so cold.”

Laegjarn doesn’t say anything for several seconds, and Fjorm concentrates on holding on tightly but not too tight, and not looking downwards.

“I’ll take you for a ride, then,” Laegjarn says, and Fjorm lets out a slight shriek as she banks slightly, turning them in a wide circle. Laegjarn laughs, a tinkling sound that Fjorm could never have imagined coming from her. “It’s not that scary! We’ll just go slowly.”

Fjorm holds in a squeak as they go into a shallow dive. Laegjarn pulls them up after a few seconds, and they use the momentum to fly high into the clouds. Fjorm closes her eyes as the clouds rush up towards them, but all she feels is the cool press of moisture on her face. She blinks her eyes open and it’s like they’re floating along a path of clouds, in a world of their very own.

“Wow,” she murmurs, her voice stolen away by the wind.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Laegjarn asks. “I always used to come up here when I was younger and wanted to get away from the pressures of being the crown princess. I could always fly faster than anyone else, and my wyvern never cared much for my duties, either. It’s freeing, being alone up here.”

“We’re hardly alone when we’re with each other,” Fjorm can’t help but point out.

“True,” Laegjarn admits. “I know that in this world, we faced each other as enemies. But in the world that I came from, Princess Fjorm and I are acquaintances. Normally I am in Nifl to talk to King Hríd, but the Princess is always welcoming when our paths cross. Perhaps… while I am here, in this world, we could get to know each other more closely?”

They’re flying levelly again, so Fjorm has no sudden falls or steep turns to hide how her fingers clench against her will.

“I never knew Princess Laegjarn as much more than her name, and her reputation,” Fjorm finally says. “But if you are willing… it would be my honour.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Laegjarn says warmly. A hint of humour enters her voice when she speaks next. “And you can put your arms around me, properly, you know. I won’t let you fall in any case, but that would help.”

“I…” Fjorm gulps.

“No?” Laegjarn says innocently. “I do not exactly disapprove. But if you need some encouragement…”

Fjorm screams as they tilt into a steeper dive than before, and they do a quick roll as they level out. When she opens her eyes, she realises that she’s clutching Laegjarn tightly.

“That’s better,” Laegjarn laughs. “I did say I wanted to get to know you. This can be a good starting place, don’t you think?”

They’re almost at the main army – Fjorm can see the banners in the air, growing larger as they wing their way closer.

“This _is_ one way,” she manages to say, still trying to master her stomach. She will be very glad when they reach the ground.

“If this is already too much, I wonder how you’re going to handle the rest? We of Múspell tend to burn hotter, you know.”

Fjorm frowns slightly. “I can handle any challenge you set, Princess Laegjarn.”

Laegjarn sets the wyvern down, and Fjorm resists the urge to throw herself to the ground. It probably wouldn’t help her to back up her claim of being able to rise to any challenge.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Laegjarn says. There’s a pause. “You can get down, now.”

Fjorm realises that her hands are still all over Laegjarn, and scrambles down from the wyvern in one of the fastest moves she’s ever taken.

“Thank you for assisting me back to camp, Princess Laegjarn,” Fjorm says formally, bowing slightly so the other woman won’t be able to see how red her cheeks are.

“There is no need to be so formal,” Laegjarn says as she leaps to the ground. “You may call me by my first name… if I can call you by yours.”

Fjorm stands up straight again. “Of course. Laegjarn.”

“Fjorm,” Laegjarn says, smiling. Fjorm thinks she can hear her heart actually flutter in her chest.

Laegjarn holds out her arm, and Fjorm dazedly steps forward to take it. It must be the aftermath of that sudden dive – yes, that must be it. Not the flash of Laegjarn’s smile, the sharpness of her eyes and the warmth of her skin.

“We should report that we’re back,” Laegjarn says.

Fjorm can only nod. “We should.”

Laegjarn leads, and Fjorm follows.


End file.
